Cat On A Hot Tin Roof
by Deadfield
Summary: What do you do when you love someone who will never love you back. what happens when the same person feels the same way, what happens to the obsticales in-between. yaoi, m rated later.
1. Chapter 1

Blue.

The color of the sky, the color that represented sadness, and the color of the boy's hair, that he so longed to run his callouses fingers through. He could barely look at the boy, without the feeling of pained desire rise in his throat. But it was the pain that he desired so. Each look, touch, word that escaped his lips, was his pained pleasure.

This be true, Murdoc Niccals, the satanic, alcoholic, sadistic, womanizing bassist of Gorillaz was in love with another man, and to seemingly throw salt in his wounds, it had to be him, the one he hurt abused daily, who he verbally insulted every second of the day. The one who was called 2D. He wanted to stop the abuse, the pain, but he couldn't. He didn't know why but it refused to cease. It was like an invisible force of nature, making him do these things. He so desperately wanted to stop himself, mid punch, and apologize, make amends. But he knew some scars run too deep, and that his old habits die hard. He'd never stop, whether he willed it or otherwise, and for that, he knew 2D would never love him.

He most likely despised him anyway. The happiness was probably just a window dressing of his true feelings.

He sat in the disheveled bed of the Winnebago, the red flying V strewn across his lap. He casually plucked the A string, as he sipped from a bottle of Crown Royal, trying to expel the plague-like visions of 2D from his mind, as he drowned in a pit of sorrow, hard liquor, and tears. "Fockin insane is wat it iz." he drawled in a slow growl. He wanted to lay back down and fall asleep, but his roaring stomach said otherwise. He pulled on some briefs and pants and set out the door. He could hear Noodle singing 'DARE' again, though the part from the giant head was missing, and replaced with the vocal styling of Noodle-bot. (yes BOTH Noodles will be present.) He finally got to the kitchen to see Russell dump and entire chicken into a rather tall pot. He looked at the dark-haired male, ivory orbs meeting black and salmon pink, then he turned back to the meal. But looks say a thousand words, no? See, the only other person that knew of Murdoc's timeless love for 2D besides Noodle (And possibly Noodle-Bot) was Russell. He'd walked in on He and 2D arguing, and after the blue haired boy left, Russell confronted him about it. And from there, it all came out, like a cracked dam that had just burst.

Russell always said he had a way with words.

"You should tell him." Russell's deep voice broke the thick tension, like fine china shattering against the floor. His American accent was complemented with his deep ghetto grammar.

"I aint go'tta do aney-Fockin-Thin." "I'm fine." he grinned and whipped his tongue at him for affect, and twirling the turkey drumstick he'd just withdrawn from the icebox.

Russell could see right through him.

The African-American male slowly added some other ingredients to what could be a stew. "A thinly bound facade for a broken man."

"Whut?"

"2D said it once, while he was drunk out his mind on half a bottle of Four Roses."

"Liteweight." Murdoc growled, breaking eye-contact.

Russell opened his mouth to say something but thought otherwise. Instead he just looked at Murdoc, with the same look from earlier. Then turned back to his food. Murdoc shrugged, and glanced at the television, then rolled his eyes at the machine. It was that softcore porn that always comes on HBO at two o'clock in the morning.

Nothing interesting here.

He started down the dank hallway, hearing Noodle strumming the baseline from 'Feel Good Inc', and Noodle-Bot softly singing 2D's portion of the song. The robot could very well match the tone and feeling of the boys voice, yet it was void of something, a something the cerulean-haired boy could produce. The note switched from electric, to acoustic now, she kept singing, but still, the voice was still void of that special something. He rolled his eyes, scarfed down the remainder of his turkey drumstick, and headed towards the recording room.

By the time he got there, he was overcome with the same pleasuring devastation. 2D was in the booth, singing. Murdoc couldn't hear a thing, meaning that the mic wasn't on. He contemplated leaving, but instead sat in the ratty leather chair and turned on the mic.

-I'm happy, I'm feelin glad. I got sunshine inna bag-

2D stopped and looked forward, his eight ball fractured eyes gazing upon Murdoc, then he pulled his headphones from his blue mop and exited the small room.

"Ey Mudzy, watca doin?" "Summfin da matta?" He smiled, and Murdoc felt a little light flicker on in his heart.

"Juss listien to ya sing, faceache." he replied, adjusting his lean figure in the swivel chair.

"Oh."

"Git in dare an sing 'Rock da House!" he demanded. His lips curled into a creaked like smile.

"No." "I promized Russell I wou'nt sing dat song, on account dat it remines him o Del." he scratched his chin, and Murdoc rolled his eyes.

"Whateva, faceache." he beamed him with a discarded can of coke, which bounced off his head, and hit some recording equipment. "Dullar'd"

He turned and smiled at the other, as russell called for dinner. "See ya at ta table Mudz."

ーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーー  
>Black.<p>

The color of death, longing, and the only color that could be used to describe him. He loved him. And he'd take his own life for him if he had to. He craved the abuse, the bruises, small cuts, and iron-y pigment of blood. But only if it was inflicted by him. He'd buckle down, and endure the beatings, secretly writhing in pleasure, under each blow. And later he would trace the bruises, and outlines of the open flesh, silently wishing they were marks of his love which symbolized that he belonged to the man. Some would adorn him with the titles of Masochist, or Sadist.

But that's how you get when you're in love.

2D lay in bed, on the verge of a drunken stupor, a spent bottle of Four Roses dangling from his long fingers. All he could think about was Murdoc. He was the apple of his eye that was just out of his reach. Like a kid, longing for the shiny red bike that sat ever so daintily in the window if the toy store.

"Dis fockin-" he wanted to say something, but it was relinquished.

He would give anything for him. For his love.

But something in his head told him otherwise.

Why?

Because Murdoc had a girlfriend.

TBC

Oooh, who is this mystery woman...

Review, and give me tips on the accents! Much love!

3

P.S.- the reason Mudz wanted to see 2D sing '-Rock the House-' is because, whenever he sings that song, he does that cute crotch-Thrust dance


	2. Chapter 2

I got some decent feedback, so I guess I'll continue. But know, this, tears on bloodstained snow, an another fic, are just side fics, so dont expect periodic updates.

2D could hear her.

He could feel the clang of her five-inch strippertastic heels connect with the floor.

He could smell her putrid perfume.

He could picture her attractive face.

"She's a fockin Jezzabelle!" 2D shouted, feeling a moment of spite come over him. He formed a fist, striking tin wall, before resuming his lying position. He reached for his bottle of four roses, but to his misfortune, his fingers bumped the bottle, and the amber liquid was sent cascading along the steel floor. He sighed, and turned over, the burgundy sheet intertwining with his nude lanky figure. His hangover kept him in bed, as did his lethargy. But all of that would be welcomed if he could just get Murdoc out of his head.

(click, click)

That woman's atrocious heeled shoes, with that awful receptive echoing click, was gonna drive him up the fucking wall.

He sighs.

"I gess I'll go an' greet da broad." he spoke, getting up, the sheet falling to the floor. He rummaged throughout his drawers, settling on a red shirt with site sleeves, that had a illustration of a open gash, and a heart being pulled out by a stitched up multicolor hand, and a pair of faded navy skinnies, and some black socks.

What?

Shoes suck.

Shit.

Clothes suck.

He gathered his medication, taking the little blue,white and orange pills altogether, then draining it with a bottle of old water. The halls were desolate and bare, with the exception of the sound of that woman's heeled shoes, and their repeated meetings with the floor. How Murdoc stood her, he would never know. He knew for infect that Noodle-bot hated her to pieces, which her human counterpart and Russell were indifferent to her existence. He just wanted her to leave, Noodle-bot had darker plans for the wench.

He turned the corner, only to be met with the back of the woman. Well, he doubted she was even human anymore, with all of the plastic surgery, silicon implants,(this tits aren't real) and collagen lip plumps he paid for. She was faker than a barbie doll, not to mention the fact that she dressed like street pussy. But he would look past all of that, have complete disregard for every, implant, and four thousand dollar credit card bill, if she wasn't just using him. She played him like a fiddle, depending on him for everything. She was a two faced broad. Nothing but a disgusting makeup caked-two timing leech-like fishdog. That needed to be put down.

But nevertheless, he acted friendly toward her.

"Oh, 'Ello Daysi, yu lookin fer Mudzy?" he called, watching the woman's mane of bleach-blond locks terrorize the air, as she turned her head rather quickly.

She turned from one of the framed posters she'd been gazing at. "Hi 2D, yes I'm looking for him."

"I dink he's up on da terrace" he responded. She strafed past him and gave him a cold grin that metaphorically said; You touch him, and I'll cut off your balls and feed them to you.

He retorted with a toothy smile that read along the lines of; go shove a rabid badger up your pussy, bitch.

She scampered off in the direction of the elevator, and 2D sighed and ran his long fingers through his cerulean hair, something that had become a habit over the years. It helped him deal with all his Murdoc stress over the years.

Anyhow, he reached the living room shortly after, Noodle, and her android counterpart huddled together on the couch, watching a bootleg version of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows pt. 2. Noodle wearing a oversized wife-beater, and the stocking from when she'd gone missing, and Noodle-Bot robed in her stylo attire, minus the hat. The scene ended and it cut to the credits, and the two hopped up.

"2D San, would you like to go shoot zombies with us?" The Asian girl inquired, adjusting her stockings. She grabbed Murdoc's shotgun, which was more hers than his.

He replied with a nod, then scanned the premises for a firearm, managing to scavenge two Glocks, a box of Magnum shells, and a grenade.

They have a lot of weaponry laying around the house.

This is Kongz were talking about.

He joined the two, and accompanied them outside.

Murdoc grimaced as she walked through the door of the terrace. He knew what she desired, and he knew from experemce, and past quarrels, that she was only going to get the hell out of his face after he gave her some money.

"Ello Darlin'." he lisped with an empty smile, removing his wallet.

He could see dollar signs in the bitches eyes.

She began to ramble about some pointless shit she wanted to buy, something along the lines of a new Chanel fragrance that wasn't due out until 2014. And that she wanted to 1up her Cindy Lauper look-alike-of-a-sister. He rolled his multicolor eyes and tossed her his credit card. She made a giddy squealing noise, similar to nails on a chalkboard. She have him a kiss, and sashayed from the terrace, shaking her ass-implants in the process.

He sighed.

The only reason he kept her silicon ass around was for the cameras. He didn't love her, hell he didn't give two shits about her. But if he didn't have some plastic bitch with him in public, the paparazzi would be in his hair, then the tabloids, and Thar shit is something that makes you want to just go on a rage filled rampage.

He turned back to his elegant view of the forest, witnessing 2D and the two noodles, cautiously make their way into the zombie infested forest.

2D lay on his bed, silent tears cascading down his cheekbones. Silently resisting the urge to tap at the purplish bruises that Murdoc had earlier bestowed him.

He recalled the memory.

~flashback~

"You fockin twit, wot da hell did I tell you bout using my glock?" he blared in the cerulean haired boys ear. He flicked him on the forehead in a almost robotic manner, for he had done it many times before.

"Well you shu'int leave ya shit erey were, coz if you do, people are sure to touch it!" he retorted, giving him the finger, and really not meaning it. He furrowed his brow, as the older swiped the firearm from his grasp.

"Wot I wanna know is, why cant you just let others use ya stuff, and you nawt bitch a fockin fit about it?"

"It's my stuff, I've gawt evey rite to complain bout' people tocuchin my stuff!" "Fockin dullard!" he kicked 2D in the shin , and and the upper thigh.

"Fock you!" he yelled as the bassist walked away ?

His efforts to not toy with his bruises were futile, he pushed and poked them, pretending they were love bites.

He laughed, tears springing forth, and he reached for the razor blade that lay on his nightstand.

?  
>okay, This parts done.<p>

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	3. Chapter 3

Cat On A Hot Tin Roof-3

Hell no.

Oh hell no.

Its bad enough that he has to deal with his feelings for the vocalist of the band, but it's a Motherfucking epidemic if he has to do it without any alcohol.

Mother.

Fucking.

Epidemic.

"Who in da name of sweet Satan, stole my bloody BOOZE!" Murdoc screamed to the abode, each and every inhabitant of the house, stopping what they were doing, and looking for the screaming beast otherwise known as Murdoc.

Murdoc was going to knock the fuck out of whoever had drank his Moonshine. Cut them the hell open and throw their internal organs askew.

"Oh Mudzy~*" a terribly familiar singsong voice echoed from behind him, and he turned, and nearly.

There was 2D, sashaying around in his boxers and socks, a spent bottle of moonshine dangling from his index finger as a obviously drunken grin creaked across his features. The brunette took in this delightful sight, his black and salmon pink eyes taking in each and every nook, cranny, dip, bump, and scratch on his body. He thought is was absolutely beautiful. He wanted mark him, show everyone that Stuart Tusspot (2D's real name) was his, and his only. He wanted to love him to the break of dawn, and have him love his very Touch, Taste, and Kiss.* (Whoo!)

Murdoc must be Nicki Minaj, cuz right now, 2D has that Superbass.

But instead, he cocked his fist back, in that same robotic motion, and came forward, 2D flinching.

If you haven't figured out by now, the blunders wasn't drunk. Not even tipsy. He was just desperate. Desperate enough to think that if he stripped down, pretended to get drunk, and waltzed around the building like he'd suck for a buck, Murdoc might take advantage of him, thinking that he was drunk enough to not remember a thing when he awoke.

So.

Fucking

Desperate.

He braced for impact as the fist came hurling at him. 'Any second, he'll touch me,' the words rattled around in his brain.

Yet he felt nothing.

He opened his obsidian eyes slowly, to see that the limb had stopped short of his nose.

"Murdoc?"

The empty jug was snatched from his hands.

"Juss go, ya fockin dullard."

"But-"

"Just focking go." the words repeated themselves as he flanked from the room, leaving a confused 2D to himself.

He need to clear his head.

He moved to the elevator, and pressed the button leading to the sixteenth floor. He exited at the roof that reluctantly overlooked the pool, removed his socks, stood on the stone railing, and hurled himself off, Assassins Creed style.

He tucked into a few flips, before straightening into a dive, his body catching the final rays of sunset in the most captivating if ways.

Unbeknownst to him, Murdoc had Peered from the window of the dusty old study, and witnesses the entire event. At first he had felt fear, for he thought that his love was committing suicide, then awe.

Nothing but pure awe.

He needed to see it again. And again. And again.

He rushed from the study, and up to the sixteenth floor overlook, where he just missed the boy jump again. He stripped to his white briefs.

"If I can jomp," he whoever to the wind. "Den I'm good enuff for 'D." he looked to the pool below, watching his love float on his back without a care in the world. He bit his bottom lip, and took the condemning step forward.

For a few seconds there was nothing but a rush. A rush of pure adrenaline, that only a sport like this could provide. It went from-"What the fuck did I just do," to- "That was FUCKING AWESOME."

He met with the water, 2D scrambling in surprise. Murdoc resurfaced, gasping for air like he'd just been asphyxiated.

"Oh," 2D felt his heart hit his stomach, and his stomach hit the floor. "I Suppose you want da pool to ya self den?" he swam in the direction of the submerged stairs, jerked back when Murdoc grasped his wrists.

"Wait." "I got sumtin ta tell ya." his voice was low, almost a pitiful growl. 2D blinked and made a face, blushing as the brunette's hand slid from his thin wrist, and into his hand.

"I honestly don even have da slightest focking idea how ta tell ya this," their lips inched closer and closer to each other, breathing the same air, feeling the same life.

"No matta how many times, i hit or yell at ya, I never meant it." "None of it for dat matta!"

Hands gripped even tighter, as hearts began to bet tenfold.

"And Stu, I just want ya ta know, dat I luv ya."

The words that slipped out so smoothly, felt like a thousand years for the blue-haired vocalist. A thousand years of love, joy and happiness. Pure happiness. Their lips met. The kiss was short and chaste, but that was all they needed.

Murdoc thought that 2D's little snores were adorable.

A-fucking-doreable.

Not like a drunk Russells snores. It's like he's trying to call the motherfucking jungle up to this bitch.

He ran his hand across the skin on his exposed shoulder, smiling as his love wiggled and curled into his lover, his head in the crux of his neck.

He sighed happily, laid a small kiss on the side of his neck, laid back down beside him, as 2D muttered his name in his sleep.

TBC.

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